Thursday Morning and some Met Gala commentary.

Hello friends. I actually had some productive days since I last wrote. On Tuesday it was Jaime’s day off so we went to Souplantation because one of his customer gave him coupons for free meals. It was nice. We also went to one of our favorite breweries and drank too much. I had made plans to go out with my friend later that day.

I met up with my friend in Old Town Temecula. We had a few margaritas at a faux Mexican restaurant, a tiki bowl, and we ended up going to the brewery again because Jaime left his card. So it was safe to say I was very drunk. I had a good time though. It’s been a long time since I hung out with her alone and I missed her.

After she dropped me back home though, things went south. Jaime and I got in a fight and it was obviously heighten by the alcohol in both our systems. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m still upset about the situation but I love him and I really do want to work through are problems. I just hate how sometimes I’m the only one who tries to actively communicate when an issue arises. He just shuts down. It’s frustrating but we are still trucking through.

Yesterday I was a bit hung over. Not as bad as usual but still uncomfortable. I stayed in bed for a good amount of the morning. I watched a lot of YouTube videos. I have been into beauty and shopping haul videos lately. I also have been dressing up lately. I can make a correlation though. Usually when I feel like shit about my life I tend to dress up and be very into keeping up my appearance. I think it goes back to the philosophy, if you look good you feel good.

Anyway I ended up going shopping with my mom. My mom is a shopaholic but one who knows to go shopping on a budget.

I ended up getting this dress from Free People for ten dollars! (I feel like I have been doing a lot of retail therapy which isn’t necessary good because consumerism doesn’t fix anything but it will have do for now.)

Anyway a little side note is I have always been into fashion and also a shopaholic for some time now but with recent times my politics have changed drastically and with that so did my shopping habits. But to simplify Marxism, forced to work and born to shop amirite?

The Met Gala was a few days and it is one of my favorite bourgeoisie event to follow. This year’s theme was camp and the best way to describe camp in a very watered down version is drag, like the documentary Paris is Burning drag. Anyway here are a few of my favorite looks from that night.

This isn’t camp like at all but the dress is a work of art. I’m not a Kardashian fan but you can’t deny their influence and this dress is just wow. I have to say though, Kim has a certain aesthetic that never changes and it’s getting a bit boring but I still love this dress.

Cardi B has the best stylists out there hands down. It’s not my favorite look of hers or the night but top five of the night.

I would probably say Zendaya was my favorite look of the night. I love the whole show behind her look. Although I must point out that Zac Posen did it first with Claire Danes at the Met Gala in 2016. The execution was different though and it made all the difference.

Billy Porter killed it. This is fucking camp.

Emily Ratajkowski’s body is fucking sickening and I love an obvious Cher inspired look.

There were so many looks from that night that I loved but I don’t want to flood the post. I was a bit disappointed because a lot of people weren’t truly doing camp. The only fun thing about the Met Gala is the theme. I mean maybe the event itself is fun but I’ll probably never be rich enough or famous enough to be invited. Until next time my friends.

January 14 2019

I imagined today

I would cook the cheap pieces of steak

That’s been in our freezer for a mouth

With butter and mushrooms

And shallots

Salt and pepper

In a pan

Medium heat

Cooked half way

Tucked in a puff pastry

Baked to a golden brown

Slowly unraveling the pieces in you

In my hand

In my mouth

Tearing you down into pieces

With my teeth

Shredding you into fragments that

Make sense

Fragments easier to break down

To digest

To get every word, every syllable

Every roll of the tongue

Every bit of you

Another Update

I haven’t been posting mostly because I was trying to do blogging off Instagram. Maybe I’m weak but I truly don’t understand how people do it. With this blog I never felt the stress of validation like I do with Instagram. I also don’t know why I want fame so much. It’s not important. It’s so fucking unnecessary. I don’t want to be rich. I don’t want to be a slave of validation.

I will start writing on here more. It’s stress free and I feel like I can post and say whatever I want. I will censor myself though because I was wildin before. Some things are meant behind closed doors and that’s fine. I will say though I making this more of a writing blog, a place where I can put the poems and short stories I write with a little personal things here and there.

Some personal updates is I moved to Hemet California and I actually love the city. I’m having a hard time adjusting with some circumstances but I’ll be okay. I still don’t have a job but surprisingly I haven’t been driven crazy by boredom. It’s been hard to find a job even shitty jobs but I’ll be okay for awhile. I’m just glad I have more time to do the things I love, make art.

Only For A Night

The bartender called last call. I had already felt the alcohol but decided to do another shot of whiskey. I didn’t know how I was getting home. My card was expired and I had spent all my cash on alcohol.

You told me don’t worry, just come home with me. I smiled. We had been doing a lot of things lately and you had been passing me love notes written on cheap brown paper towels. I still didn’t know about you. I saw you as a politician, a great face but behind the charisma hid ugliness of superiority.

We started walking to your apartment downtown hand and hand. You told me you wanted to take me to your favorite spot. A single bench parked on a peak of San Francisco over seeing the whole city in its beauty of light pollution.

You told me you were done with white girls. I should of snarled but I was lonely and for reasons I never knew I did enjoy your company, even if I felt you were full of shit.

We kept walking and stopped in front of a church and you said we were all Gods in control of our own destiny. I didn’t understand until years later.

We finally reached your apartment. We went into an old elevator. I couldn’t stop looking at you. I fucking hated you and everything you stood for. Your faux Ghandi philosophy, your spirituality through crystals, your distaste of rap music, and your narcissism. You kissed me and it felt like a temporary home, feeling temporarily safe.

When we go into your apartment I couldn’t help but notice all the signs of a failed relationship. Dozen of empty frames on the wall, a floral couch picked up from a thrift store, crisp white sheets, and a piece of burnt carpet from a past romantic night that didn’t end well.

You started to peel layers from me one by one. I could see it your face. I saw the pain. I was just a piece of your fucked up puzzle. I should of just slept on the couch but I didn’t care. I needed the warmth of your skin, the intertwining of your fingers, your weight on top of mine. I started taking piece by piece of you realizing there was nothing there but drunk conversations and a false sense of comfort.

I left in the morning leaving everything behind the door of your apartment.